You mean you're not a Weasley?
by The K1D
Summary: Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was born with his mother's fiery red hair and his father's soft hazel eyes. (Please note that while I will use the books and movies as a backbone for this story, I will be taking heavy liberties with some details. I will write characters as I recall relating to them. Not perfect, but well-balanced and flawed.) DISCONTINUED


**Yes. I deleted all of my stories. I'm in college now, and am now in a place where I'd like to retry with better writing skills. I hope you enjoy. This first section is exactly as what I previously had. I'll be writing more soon. **

**Thanks, The K1D.**

* * *

**Prologue:**

Harry James Potter was born early in the morning on July 31st, 1980. His parents loved him with all their hearts. For a year, Harry lived under the wonderful care of his loving parents. But the Dark Lord Voldemort was at the height of his power. Word of the boy's birth reached the Dark Lord quickly. A prophecy, which foretold his defeat, made the innocent boy a new and important target for the Dark Lord.

One quiet Halloween night, Harry was upstairs with his parents, getting ready to go to sleep. Suddenly, the silence was shattered as an explosion came from the front door of their home. Harry's father ran out of the room to face the intruder, but only a flash of green light and a thud followed. The boy began to whimper, scared by all of the loud, unfamiliar noises. His mother told him about how much she and his father loved him, before the door to the boy's nursery was blown off its hinges. A tall man in a cloak and hood entered the room. He told the boy's mother to move out of the way, only to be refused. The Dark Lord responded in kind and killed the woman. Tears began to fall from the boy's eyes as he looked up at the frightening, shadowy figure. He simply pointed his wand at the defenseless infant's head and shouted an incantation. But the spell rebounded, turning against its caster, who shrieked as his physical form was obliterated.

The boy survived, with only a scar. A new legend forged underneath a head of red hair.

* * *

**Chapter 1: You're A Wizard**

Petunia Dursley awoke to the sound of the doorbell of her house. Her husband was still fast asleep, his massive size making the bed lean to one side. Petunia sighed to herself and walked down to the front door. She glanced at the clock before opening the door. It was 1:26 in the morning.

'Who would be at our door at this ungodly hour?' Petunia thought to herself as she opened the door.

She looked left and right as she leaned her head out the door, before looking down. It was a baby. With the baby was a letter addressed to her. Just her; not her husband, her. Curiosity got the better of her and Petunia scooped up the babe and the letter and brought him inside. She sat down in the living room and carefully held the baby in her lap, cradling its head in the crook of her arm. She carefully opened the envelope, being sure to not wake the sleeping babe. She unfolded the parchment and began to read the letter.

_Mrs. Petunia Dursley née Evans,_

_It is with great sorrow that I must inform you of the death of your sister, Lily. She and your brother-in-law, James Potter, have been tragically killed, leaving their infant son, your nephew, Harry James Potter as an orphan. As you are the last blood relative Harry has left, I hoped you would take your nephew under your care. With my condolences I wish you good luck._

_Sincerely,_

_Prof. A. Dumbledore_

Petunia laid the letter on the coffee table. With watery eyes she looked at her sleeping nephew. Petunia may not have been on the best terms with her younger sister, but she would try her best to take care of the young orphan in her arms.

* * *

**10 years later…**

Harry woke up to the sound of his rotund cousin stomping down the stairs over his head. Harry groaned softly as he opened the door of his cupboard under the stairs. Dudley seized the opportunity to push Harry back into the cramped little room and slam the door in his face. Harry merely sighed and walked to the kitchen and began fixing breakfast for his relatives. This was the routine for as long as Harry could remember. Aunt Petunia only helped teach him when Harry was probably about 4. After that, he had to learn how to do everything else himself. Aunt Petunia tried to be nice to him sometimes, but only when Uncle Vernon was away. When Uncle Vernon was around, Aunt Petunia just acted indifferent towards him. It confused Harry, but he grew used to it.

"Boy! Where's our breakfast?" Uncle Vernon shouted, but Harry knew better than to respond.

Uncle Vernon didn't like him talking back. He just silently brought his uncle, aunt, and cousin their breakfast. Harry walked over to the corner of the dining room to wait for his relatives to finish their breakfast. Harry had learned better than to act out against Uncle Vernon a long time ago. Harry knew that he was being mistreated; he wasn't stupid, despite what his Uncle liked to tell him. Harry had decided that he would run away from the Dursleys in 3 years. He'd be bigger then, and he'd be more likely to be mistaken for an adult, though still unlikely. For now, though, Harry would have to endure the torment of his cruel uncle and idiot cousin.

"Boy! Quit daydreaming, less you want another beating!" Uncle Vernon yelled impatiently.

Harry jumped, "Sorry, sir." He collected their plates and started washing them as fast as he could. When he had finished, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He froze in place.

"Harry, would you go and see what the postman has brought?" whispered Aunt Petunia.

Harry nodded and walked to the front door quickly. A pile of letters was at the door. Mostly taxes and junk mail, there were a few letters for Dudley, but there was one that caught Harry's eye. It was a small envelope, and it had a funny wax seal. But most astonishing was that it was addressed to him.

_Mr. Harry J. Potter_

_The-Cupboard-Under-the-Stairs, 4 Privet Drive,_

_Little Whinging, Surrey, England, Great Britain_

"Boy! What's taking so long with the post?" Shout Uncle Vernon.

Harry jumped again and hid the letter in his pocket. He collected the other letters and brought them to Uncle Vernon, who glared at him as he set the pile on the table in front of him. Harry went back his cupboard and shut the door. He turned on the lamp and looked at the letter again. He had crumpled it a little when he stuffed it in his pocket, but it was still mostly intact. Harry was about to open it when the door was opened. Before Harry could even react, the letter was snatched from his hands.

"Harry's got a letter!" cried Dudley.

"Give that back! It's mine!" Harry tried to grab it back from his beefy cousin.

"Who'd be writing you?" Uncle Vernon grinned cruelly as he took the letter from Dudley.

He looked at the envelope and his face started to turn red like it did when he got angry. Harry knew that could only mean one thing for him. Dudley was also scared by his father's sudden change in mood, so he went to watch the television and left his cousin and father by themselves. Petunia was crestfallen, she had hoped Harry might escape this treatment, but now there was nothing she could do. She could only look away as her husband grabbed Harry by the collar of his oversized shirt and dragged him upstairs. She could still hear Harry wince in pain even over the sound of the T.V. An hour or so later, Harry climbed back into his cupboard, and waited for Vernon to close and lock the door. He did and came to sit down next to Petunia and Dudley. No one said much for the rest of the day.

* * *

**A few days later… July 27th, 1991**

Harry was up early, fixing omelets for his relatives, like his uncle told him they'd be wanting for breakfast. The smell of the omelets woke them up, and soon the Dursleys were enjoying omelets, with bits of bacon, bell peppers, and onions in Uncle Vernon's. Harry did his best to make himself scarce, so as not incur his uncle's wrath. There hadn't been another letter addressed to him in a few days, so his uncle was more reasonable than he had been earlier in the week. Petunia had actually been hiding the other letters in a shoebox, to keep Vernon from discovering them. She was going to have a talk with Harry, after Vernon and Dudley left to go to Vernon's job. It was 'Take-your-son-to-work Day' and Vernon still intended for Dudley to take over the family business when he grew up. Harry would be staying home with her.

"You ready to go, Dad?" asked Dudley excitedly.

"Yes, Dudley. You can get in the car." Uncle Vernon told his son as he turned to Harry, "Don't you try any funny business, boy."

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded as Uncle Vernon left after Dudley.

The redheaded boy in front of her sighed as he made his way back into his cupboard. He was about to close the door when Petunia stepped in front of it. Harry sighed again and looked up at his aunt with soft brown eyes.

"Harry, I have something to show you. Come over to the living room." Petunia told her nephew as she walked over to and sat down in her armchair.

"What do you want to show me, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked, standing in front of his aunt.

Petunia reached underneath the armchair and pulled out a shoebox. "You can sit down, Harry." She told her nephew. Harry sat down and waited for his aunt to say something. When she didn't, Harry's curiosity got the better of him.

"What's in the shoebox, Aunt Petunia?" Asked Harry.

"I suppose you could think of it as an early birthday present, Harry." She replied.

Harry took the box and opened it. "My letters. It's my letters! Why'd you hide them for me?"

"Because you're my nephew, Harry. My relationship with your mother was never very good, but after she and your father died, I wanted to do better. In these letters is a chance for you to be free from your uncle. I tried to do what I could, but his temper is just too much." Petunia started to tear up, which surprised Harry. He'd never seen her cry before, and certainly not for him.

To help alleviate some of the awkwardness, Harry opened one the envelopes and read the letter inside.

* * *

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await you owl no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry nametags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_

_by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic_

_by Batilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory_

_by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_

_by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

_by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions_

_by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

_by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

_by Quentin Trimble_

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

* * *

Harry read the letter over another two times, unsure if this was all real. He looked at Aunt Petunia, who seemed misty-eyed about something. Harry pondered it for a moment, looked at the letter again, and realized.

"My parents weren't drunks, were they?" Harry almost stated.

Petunia could only nod in response, as her throat was starting to close up, just like it did when she first learned of what happened to Lily and her husband. She had spent so long despising her little sister, ever since she got her letter to Hogwarts so many years ago. Even now, almost 10 years after her death, Petunia wished she could've taken back everything she had done to her sister. She had only pushed her away, even when Lily had tried desperately to make amends. Her son was so much like her, but Petunia didn't know what to do. Vernon had always been a temperamental man, very resistant to change and new, and different kinds of people. When Harry had started to show that his abilities were greater than Dudley's, Vernon had furiously threatened to throw a 4-year-old Harry out on the streets. It was after that when Vernon took to using Harry as a whipping boy. Now that Harry had been accepted to the school his mother went to, maybe he could escape them and never come back. That thought broke Petunia's heart, but she knew she could never leave her 'ickle Duddikens'. And Harry would be better off far away from them. Petunia would contact the school officials and alert them to the situation that Harry would be in if forced to stay with them. Vernon would be better off without Harry around, and Harry would be much safer far away from Vernon Dursley.

* * *

**August 1st, 1991**

Harry was woken up suddenly by the sound of Uncle Vernon shouting at someone at the front door. Harry was worried about what might come next. Uncle Vernon would sometimes grab him from his cupboard and beat him when he was in a particularly bad mood. Suddenly, the shouting ceased, and a resounding thud vibrated through the house. The door to his cupboard was locked, so Harry couldn't see what had happened.

"Ah, Mrs. Dursley. Thank you for alerting me to the situation, although I am disappointed you did not take action sooner." Said the unknown visitor.

"Yes, Professor. I'll go get Harry." Aunt Petunia's voice rang as she quickly walked past the visitor to let Harry out of his cupboard.

"What's going on, Aunt Petunia?" asked Harry. It was then that he saw Uncle Vernon paralyzed on the floor. "What happened to Uncle Vernon?"

"He has simply been immobilized, Mr. Potter. Although he deserves much more." Answered the stranger. She was an elderly woman, and she was wearing rather funny looking clothes. "For now, you will be coming with me. We need to make sure you have everything you need before you start your first year at Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall, and I'll be one of you teachers this year."

"So, it's true! I really am a wizard!" Harry grinned. Maybe he'd really be free from Dudley's gang and Uncle Vernon after all.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. You really are a wizard. Now, I expect your uncle will recover from his paralysis in an hour or so, and I think it best we be far away from here." Said Prof. McGonagall as she led Harry out of the door.

Harry looked back at the 4 Privet Drive one last time, hopefully never to come back ever again. He didn't want to be at his Uncle's mercy anymore. Professor McGonagall smiled at Harry. He looked just like his father, save for his unruly red hair. She summoned the Knight Bus for transportation to the Leaky Cauldron. It would be far tamer than Apparating or traveling by Floo, and Harry looked like he'd need to be eased into the wizarding world, not unlike muggleborn students at Hogwarts. Luckily, the journey was relatively quick, though the young wizard next to her looked a little sick after the ride was over. Hopefully, he'd be able to acclimate to magic quickly.

"The Leaky Cauldron! Next stop, Knockturn Alley." Shouted the conductor, a recent Hogwarts graduate named Stan Shunpike.

Prof. McGonagall nodded to him gratefully and tipped him for his service. They exited the Knight Bus and not a second later it sped away to its next stop.

"The Leaky Cauldron?" asked Harry.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, the Leaky Cauldron. It's a pub and tavern for wizards here in London. There's even an entrance into Diagon Alley in the back. After we get you a room, you and I will be heading in to get your schoolbooks and other supplies." Prof. McGonagall told Harry.

"But I haven't any money, Professor. How am I going to pay for it?" Harry asked nervously; he didn't want Prof. McGonagall to have to pay for him since she had already been so nice to him.

"Our first stop will be Gringotts. It's the only bank in the wizarding world, and you needn't worry about money, Mr. Potter. Your parents left you their entire estate." Prof. McGonagall's expression saddened as she remembered the Potters.

"I understand, Professor. Thank you." Harry tried to change the mood, "How about we go to Gringotts now?"

Prof. McGonagall brightened at that, "That is a wonderful idea, Mr. Potter." She turned to Tom the Innkeeper, "Would you be so kind as to prepare a room for Mr. Potter, Tom?"

"I'd be happy to, Professor. We always have room at the Leaky Cauldron." Tom smiled at Harry.

"Thank you, Tom. Now, we'll be off Mr. Potter." Prof. McGonagall said as she led Harry to the back of the tavern.

Harry looked curiously at the brick wall in front of him. He was about to ask a question when Prof. McGonagall took out her wand and tapped wall in a sequence. Three up and two across from the dustbin again the wall. She stepped back from the wall as the bricks began to shift and change position on their own, rapidly reconfiguring themselves into a brick archway. Now in complete and total bewilderment, Harry could only gape at the wonder before him. The street was already brimming with activity as witches and wizards walked around weaving through the crowd to different storefronts as they bought supplies. But directly across from Harry, down the length of the alley was his first destination, Gringotts Wizarding Bank. He followed behind Prof. McGonagall, careful to stay close, but still determined to absorb as much as he possibly could. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before; thought, admittedly, Harry hadn't really seen very much of anything until that day.

"Now, Mr. Potter, Gringotts bank is run by Goblins. They are a very proud race, and do not take kindly to disrespect. So, since you are uninitiated in our world, I will be doing the talking. Understood?" Prof. McGonagall looked at Harry firmly.

"Yes, ma'am. I don't want to offend anyone." Harry nodded violently.

"Good. You can relax, Mr. Potter. The Goblins govern their actions by a strict code of honor; they won't do you any harm. Although, I admit, they are quite intimidating." Prof. McGonagall smiled at the young wizard in front of her.

Again, Harry was thoroughly impressed by the sheer magnitude of the bank. Bean counters sat at their desks, weighing gold, taking notes, and writing up documents. Their footsteps echoed through the enormous lobby as they made their way to the main desk. Some of the Goblins looked up from their work and frowned. Yet another young wizard who would grow up to take them for granted, as all magical folk did. At the main desk, an ancient Goblin sat looking over some vital calculations with a permanent scowl on his face.

"Ahem." coughed Prof. McGonagall, though he didn't seem to hear her. She tried again, "Ahem!"

Gordak looked down his nose at the witch before him, "How may I be of service, madam?"

"Mr. Harry James Potter would like to make a withdrawal from his vault." Replied Prof. McGonagall, the Goblin's tone was not lost on her.

"Does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?" asked Gordak, he despised being interrupted.

"He does." Prof. McGonagall answered the ancient goblin curtly as she handed the goblin a small slip of paper. "We'll also being making a special withdrawal from the vault specified."

Gordak's eyes widened, "Griphook! If you would lead these two to their vaults. The utmost discretion as always."

A much younger goblin emerged from nowhere, "Of course, sir. If you follow me, Mr. Potter."

Harry and Prof. McGonagall followed Griphook onto a cart that would take them down into the depths of Gringotts. The ride was pretty tame at the start. After a minute passed however, Griphook grinned mischievously as he changed into a higher gear to take them further down into Gringotts. Harry imagined that this was what rollercoasters must be like. While it was unnerving, Harry decided that he liked this. Prof. McGonagall was far less enthusiastic. The high-speed trip came to a controlled end as they neared Vault 687. They stepped off of the cart as Griphook lead them to the vault.

"Mr. Harry Potter's key." Griphook handed Harry the large lantern he was holding as Prof. McGonagall gave him the key. "Stand back." Griphook told them as he turned the key.

"Wow!" exclaimed Harry when the vault opened. "How'd I get so much money?" He asked, staring at the piles and piles of gold coins stored inside his vault.

"Your parents were very important people in the wizarding world, Mr. Potter. They left all of this small fortune to you for buying school supplies." Prof. McGonagall told Harry. She handed Harry a coin purse, "Whatever'll fit in that pouch should more than cover your school expenses."

Harry quickly filled the coin purse and stepped back outside of the vault. Griphook closed it and hand the key back to Prof. McGonagall. They climbed back onto the cart and descended to high security Vault 713. Griphook slid his finger down the seam of the vault door, and Harry heard gears shift and turn, slowly opening the vault to reveal a small pouch, tied of with a bit of twine. Prof. McGonagall quickly entered the vault and picked up the pouch. She hid it somewhere in her robes. Harry looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Best not to mention this to anyone, Mr. Potter." She winked at him.

Harry nodded and tapped the side of his nose, "I have no idea what you mean, Professor."

They left the vault and then Gringotts. Harry was feeling better about being able to pay for his school things. Prof. McGonagall took Harry to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions first. The kindly witch was ecstatic that young Harry Potter was in her store. She smiled at Prof. McGonagall and mentioned that she had not expected to see her around Diagon Alley so soon before the start of term. She fitted Harry for all of the robes he'd need, all the time gushing about how much like his mother and father he was. After being thoroughly embarrassed by Madam Malkin, Harry was directed to another store that was relatively close. Here they sold trunks for storing books, clothes, and other things. Harry bought a moderately priced one, with a magically extended storage space inside. Harry and Prof. McGonagall spent the next hour and a half, making sure Harry had everything he'd need for school. Finally, only two things were left.

"This is Ollivanders. Some of the finest wands in the wizarding world." Prof. McGonagall told Harry as she ushered him towards the small building. "Mr. Ollivander prefers one-on-one interactions when it comes to wands. He's an eccentric man, but a kind one. You'll be just fine, Mr. Potter."

"Ok." Harry responded as a bell rang after the door closed.

Harry looked around the cluttered shop. Aisles and aisles with shelf after shelf filed to the maximum capacity of boxes, which most probably contained wands. The sheer volume of wands was shocking, and it was clear to the young wizard that still was not nearly enough room for all the wands in this shop. Harry was standing before a small desk in the front of the shop. On the opposite side of the shop was a door, slightly ajar, the room dimly lit inside.

"Excuse me?" Harry called in no particular direction.

Suddenly, a soft thud sounded from the backroom. There was some shuffling and rustling, and then the door to the backroom was opened completely. Standing in the doorway was a wisp of a man with a crazy mess of gray hair. He reminded Harry of the physicist Albert Einstein from pictures that he had seen in a book from primary school. Despite his thin frame, he was quite spritely as he approached the young red headed wizard in his shop.

"Hmm. Red hair. No, you can't be. Ah, yes! I remember now." He mumbled to himself. "Apologies, Mr. Potter. I half expected you here last year. No matter, as you are here now."

"Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander, but how did you know who I am?" asked Harry.

"It seems as if it were only yesterday that your parents were here getting their wands." said Mr. Ollivander, as if he hadn't even heard the young wizard.

He opened a thin box that had taken from one of the shelves as he had walked towards Harry. He motioned for Harry to take the wand.

" Elm, 12 and ½ inches, Dragon Heartstring. Flexible. Give it a swish, now." He smiled.

Harry was about to do as he had been asked when the wand in his hand was whisked from his grasp and replaced with another. He looked at Mr. Ollivander curiously, who simply looked back expectantly. Harry again tried to use the wand in his hands. Suddenly, a vase on the windowsill shattered.

"No! Certainly not!" exclaimed the wand maker.

He departed briefly to get some more wands to test and came back with three boxes. With each new wand, Harry only broke something else in the shop. Mr. Ollivander made quite a few trips through the aisles of his wand shop, but no wand would work. He passed by one the more or less untouched aisles and heard something peculiar.

"I wonder." He said under his breath as he glanced at the young wizard.

He slowly returned to Harry. The boy looked at him inquisitively, just as his mother had years before. Wordlessly he gave the wand to Harry, who held the wand strongly without hesitation, like his father. His face lit up and without a word he gave it a twirl and small sparks flew forth.

"Curious. Very curious." Said Mr. Ollivander.

"Sorry, sir. But what's curious?" Asked Harry.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail-feather resides in your wand gave another feather. Just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother gave you that scar." Mr. Ollivander told Harry.

"And who owned that wand?"

"We do not speak his name. The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore. And I think it is clear that we can expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible. Yes, but great." Mr. Ollivander handed the wand back to Harry.

Harry left Ollivanders after paying the seven galleons for his wand. Prof. McGonagall was waiting for him outside, much to Harry's relief. Harry was surprised to see that she was not waiting for him alone. With her was a beautiful snowy owl in a birdcage.

"Her named is Hedwig. Think of her as a late birthday present." Prof. McGonagall smiled at Harry.

With his new wand, owl, and all of his school supplies, Harry and Prof. McGonagall toured around Diagon Alley for a little while longer before the professor escorted him back to the Leaky Cauldron. Tom the Innkeeper showed Harry to his room and helped him with his things. Harry said goodbye the Prof. McGonagall when she departed to return to Hogwarts. Harry resolved to read some of the textbooks that he had just bought before he started a new life at Hogwarts. He couldn't wait.

* * *

**Chapter 2:**** A Journey of Sorts**

**September 1st, 1991**

Harry was so excited that he could barely sit still. He'd be going to Kings Cross Station in only a few hours. He had everything he needed packed up and ready to go yesterday. Harry had kept mostly to himself while familiarizing himself with Diagon Alley, but he had stopped by Ollivanders numerous times to talk with the aging wand maker. Harry was eager to learn more from the kooky old wizard in the future.

It was 9:15 in the morning when Harry set out to Kings Cross station. It took him some time to get to the station, but he tried as hard as he could to find Platform 9¾. It didn't seem to even exist. When he asked a constable where the platform was, the man looked at him like he was growing a third ear and asked him if he was playing at something. Harry apologized to the constable and went to continue his search.

"At this rate we'll be left behind before we even have a clue where the platform is. Platform 9¾. Where would that even be?" Harry whispered to Hedwig, who listened patiently.

Hardly even a moment had passed before Harry heard a woman call out, "Now where is that Platform 9¾ again? Behave yourselves boys." Harry looked up to see a family of 5 or 6 with carts just like his. Harry carefully followed behind them, perhaps they'd know where the platform was. "Ah. Here we are. Alright, you first Percy." The tallest of the boys nodded and broke into a run. He ran right through the wall.

"Whoa!" Harry couldn't help but exclaim.

That got the red-headed woman's attention. "First time to Hogwarts, my dear?" Harry nodded in response. "Don't worry," she smiled, "Ron's a first year, too. Fred, you next." She pointed at one of her sons.

The older boy looked slighted, "He's not Fred! I am."

"Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother." His twin added.

"Oh, sorry George." She apologized with a groan.

"Only joking, I am Fred." Said the boy as he rushed through the wall, his twin, George, following right behind.

Harry finally regained enough confidence to speak, "How do I get on the platform?"

The woman looked at him, taking in his appearance for the first time, and she suddenly counted on her fingers. When she got to eight, the girl at her hip widened her eyes. The boy, Ron, who looked to be his age walked up next to Harry.

"It's not too bad. You just run straight at the wall." Ron told him.

"Okay… So, just run at wall?" Harry asked.

"Yep." Ron nodded.

Harry shook his head and positioned himself to run at the wall.

"Good Luck." Piped the girl.

Harry smiled at her and turned back to run at the wall. He sighed to himself again and took off towards the wall. When Harry opened his eyes, he was on the other side. It was astonishing. A whole platform hidden away by magic. It was awesome. Harry carted himself towards the train, Ron and his mother and sister not far behind. They got everything loaded onto the train, and Ron said goodbye to his mother and sister. Ron told Harry he needed to find and talk to his brothers before they loaded into a compartment themselves. Harry found an empty compartment and went to enter it when a snooty looking blonde boy approached him.

The boy looked him up and down, "Red hair. Hand-me-down clothes. You must be a Weasley." He sneered.

"A what?" Harry was beyond confused.

Just then, Ron returned. "What do you want, Malfoy?" He asked, pointedly.

"Ah. There you are, Weasley. I was just saying hello to your… relative here. What's your name?" Malfoy smirked.

"Harry Potter. And who are you?" Harry asked, deciding that he did not like this slick git in front of him.

"How kind of you to ask. I am Draco Malfoy, and you'll do well to remember my name." The git swaggered away, quickly flanked by his flunkies who had somehow hidden themselves.

"Sorry about that Harry. I didn't think Malfoy would come to bully you so quick." Ron said as they entered their compartment.

"Don't worry about it, Ron. But I am wondering why Draco said I'm a relative of yours." Harry began to wonder.

"It's probably our hair. Us Weasleys are known for our red hair, but you've got brown eyes, not blue like my family. Plus, the Malfoys don't really like us." Ron said, sounding a bit bored.

It was just after Ron finished that the train lurched forward and set out for Hogwarts. Ron and Harry talked about their differing pasts some, but mostly Harry listened to Ron talk about magic. Harry bought some snacks for the both of them off the trolley when it came past. About an hour and a half past when a knock came upon their compartment's door. Harry opened the door and standing in front of him was a girl.

"Excuse me, but have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost his." Harry shook his head, at a loss for words. "May I come in?" She asked.

Harry nodded his head and stepped out of her way.

"Who are you?" Ron asked the girl, crumbs all over his pudgy face.

"Hermione Granger. And you are?" She looked at Ron with a raised eyebrow.

"Ronald Weasley." Ron said proudly, despite the food in his mouth.

"Pleasure." She said with a pained expression on her face; she started to look around the compartment for something else when she saw Ron's wand on the seat next to him. "Were you practicing magic? I have to say I'm a little disappointed we only get to use a level one spell book, but I'm sure I can do my own research at the library. If you're looking to learn more about the school we'll be going to, I recommend _Hogwarts: A History_. Of course…" Her voice became a distant, but pleasant breeze as Harry started to become drawn into her chocolate brown eyes. Harry was roused from his daydreaming when Hermione asked, "… You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Harry tried to think of something intelligent to say, "Uh… yeah."

Hermione blushed for some reason, "Oh, I'm sorry. I should have realized sooner. I've read a lot about you." Her face reddened even more as she covered her mouth. "I mean, I've read books that mention you in them. Like history books. Oh, I should just go. I'm sorry." She left quickly after her rushed apology.

"Huh?" was all Harry could think to say.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express finally arrived at Hogsmeade Station and the students piled off. Harry and Ron stepped off the train just as an enormously man shouted for all the first years to follow him. Soon they were all climbing into small boats, that would hold three or four students. Harry and Ron climbed into one with another boy.

"Hi. I'm Harry Potter." Harry introduced himself.

"Neville Longbottom. Nice to meet you Harry." Neville shook Harry's extended hand carefully holding his toad in the other. "Oh, this is Trevor. Gran said I didn't need an owl, so I brought Trevor instead."

They sat in awkward silence for a while as the boats glided forward. Soon the castle was in view, and it was magnificent. Collective Oohs and Aahs sounded quietly. It wasn't long before they were at the boat house and climbing up what seemed to be several flights of stairs before being met by Professor McGonagall.

"Thank you, Hagrid, for guiding the first years. I'll be taking over from here."

"O' course, Professor." Hagrid calmly retreated back down the stairs they had all climbed up.

"If I could have your attention for a moment." Every eye turned towards the professor. "Good. Now, before our opening feast we must sort you all into your houses. They are Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Gryffindor. When I call your name sit down on the bench, and I will place the Sorting Hat upon your head. It will call out your house and you will join your new peers at your house's table."

With that Prof. McGonagall led the cluster of 10- and 11-year olds into the Great Hall. Harry saw hundreds of pairs of eyes all silently staring at them as they made their way to the front of the hall. Prof. McGonagall took out her wand and tapped the Sorting Hat twice. To Harry's and several other's astonishment the hat seemed to come alive. Suddenly, the hat launched into a song.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So, try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folks use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So, put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap_"

With the hat's song finished Prof. McGonagall took out a long piece of parchment and read off the first name on the list in front.

"Abbot, Hannah."

A nervous blonde girl came forward and sat down as the Sorting Hat was placed on her head. A few seconds passed before the hat made its decision.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

She smiled and gave the hat back to Prof. McGonagall before eagerly joining her new housemates at the Hufflepuff table. Next was Bones, Susan, who was sorted into Hufflepuff as well. Then, there was a Ravenclaw, a Slytherin, another Hufflepuff, a Gryffindor, and another Slytherin. This continued for some time. Then, came a name that Harry wanted to pay attention to.

"Granger, Hermione." The tawny haired girl sat down as the hat was placed on her head.

"Ah, right then." The hat said aloud, "Hmm, right. Okay." It seemed that the hat had made its decision. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione grinned and made her way to the table. Soon after her was Neville Longbottom. The hat sat upon Neville's head for what almost seemed an eternity. Finally, the Sorting Hat declared its decision.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville was so surprised that he ran to the Gryffindor table with the Sorting Hat still on his head. The entire hall erupted into laughter, as Neville, now red as a beet, sheepishly gave the hat back to Prof. McGonagall.

"Malfoy, Draco." Was the next named Prof. McGonagall called.

The pompous prat sat upon the stool and waited for the professor the place the Sorting Hat on his head. The hat had hardly even touched his head before it shouted.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Eventually, Harry's turn came around.

"Potter, Harry."

The hall was filled with hushed whispers as soon as Harry's name was called. Harry came forward and sat down. Prof. McGonagall set the Sorting Hat on his head, and Harry found that the hat covered a great degree of his field of vision. Then, the Hat started talking to him.

"Hmm, difficult. Yes, very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, my goodness – and a thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… but where to put you?" The hat milled through Harry's very psyche.

"Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin." Harry repeated, closing his eyes in concentration, as he tried to will the hat to obey him.

"Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know. It's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that – no? Well, if you're sure – better be…" The hat relented, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry thanked the hat and made his way to a spot next to another first year named Seamus Finnegan. The sorting went by and it wasn't before long that it was Ron's turn.

When the red-headed boy put the hat on it groaned, "Bah, another Weasley, eh? I know just what to do with you. GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron sighed in relief when he took a seat next to Harry. Finally, after Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin, the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, stood up from his seat. He went over the Hogwarts rules, cautioned the student body against wandering the halls alone at night, and gave some words of wisdom, which turned out to just be him shouting random words in Latin, and then he declared the feast's beginning. And like magic, all sorts of foods and treats appeared seemingly out of the thin air.

It was the best night of Harry's entire life. He found that he mostly talked with Ron, Neville, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas… and the Weasley Twins, who would not be ignored. They talked about Quidditch, an incredibly dangerous wizard sport on broomsticks, and tried to explain the rules to Harry. They talked some about their coming classes and the professors who would be teaching them. Harry learned that his Magical History class would be far less exciting than he had originally thought, especially from what the Twins described of the dreadfully boring Professor Binns. Rumor had it that Binns died in his sleep one-night eons ago and gotten up the next morning to keep on teaching. There was speculation that the old fart didn't even know that he had died. Harry and the other first year boys had all laughed at that. Harry glanced over at Hermione several times throughout the course of the feast. She had taken a much smaller portion of food than anyone else at Gryffindor table, even Harry. She had finished her plate before Harry had even gotten through half of the food that he and Ron had piled onto his plate. After she had finished eating, Hermione pulled out a book and read. She didn't talk to anyone, and no one tried to talk to her. Harry was about to get up to sit next to her and spark up a conversation when Dumbledore stood up from his seat and the Great Hall turned silent once again.

"Now that we are suitably well-fed and beginning to feel the lull of Morpheus calling, I believe it is time for us to head off to bed. Prefects, if you will lead our first years to their dormitories." Dumbledore nodded his signal to all the prefects in the hall as he sat back down.

With that, Percy Weasley stood up and called for all the first years to follow him to Gryffindor Tower. He warned them of the temperamental moving staircases, pointed out important reference points, and finally they arrived at the entrance to their common room. The woman in the painting greeted Percy and introduced herself to the first years as The Fat Lady. Percy explained that they had to speak a password in order to be permitted entrance into the Gryffindor common room. He gave the password, which was **Caput Draconis**. With that they entered the Gryffindor common room and Percy told them that it would be girls on the right and boys on the left as they ascended the spiral staircase in the wall opposite the entrance to the common room. Harry and his fellow first year boys piled into their two dorm rooms. They found that allot their things from the train had already been set at their beds. Harry settled in and climbed into his new bed. It was far more comfortable than what he had to sleep on at the Dursleys'. With a full belly, warm thoughts, and the prospect of a real education ahead of him, Harry peacefully fell asleep finally fully at terms with his new home, Hogwarts.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. Reviews are welcome. Expect the second part soon.**


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